


christmas eve eve

by flashheart



Category: The London Life (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/M, Getting Back Together, Gift Fic, Kissing at Midnight, Past Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2020-07-24 00:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20017189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashheart/pseuds/flashheart
Summary: The night went swiftly downhill when she discovered that Asher's business partner was none other than AlfiebloodyCole.'How did we not know this?' she hissed to Marietta.'I did know this. How did younotknow this?' asked Marietta.'Alfie and I didn't -- he said he was making an app, but whoisn'tmaking a fucking app these days,' she said, teeth clenched around the cigarette





	christmas eve eve

**Author's Note:**

> Asher's Annual Christmas Eve-Eve Party, 2018. Merry Christmas Alex!

Fran looked at the mistletoe, her mouth twisted into a little moue of distaste.

'It's just so... _tacky_ ,' she said, her precise and clipped manner of speaking making the word sound almost foreign as she said it. 'And it's fake to boot.'

'That's not even close to the point Frannie,' said Asher, stepping back to admire his handiwork. It looked like Santa's workshop had vomited all over his Chelsea flat to Fran but Asher was grinning proudly and it was impossible not to smile in return. She turned around so he couldn't see it and started fiddling with the tinsel.

'And what is the point?' she asked.

'The _festive cheer_ ,' he said primly and then after a moment: 'and of course, hilariously bad decisions after too much mulled wine.'

'I don't think mulled wine is even that alcoholic.'

'I've got homemade eggnog too.'

***

The night went swiftly downhill when she discovered that Asher's business partner was none other than Alfie _bloody_ Cole.

'How did we not know this?' she hissed to Marietta, the two of them huddled together on the tiny balcony in the frigid December air as the party carried on inside. Marietta held two glasses of eggnog and Fran held a packet of Sobranies, making several attempts to light one with shaking hands. She didn't smoke much but desperate times and all that.

'I did know this. How did you _not_ know this?' asked Marietta.

'Alfie and I didn't -- he said he was making an app, but who _isn't_ making a fucking app these days,' she said, teeth clenched around the cigarette. She managed to light it just as the glass door to the balcony slid open and Ginny slipped through, wearing a tight red dress and holding a bottle of rum.

'Found it,' she said, shaking it slightly. Marietta held out the glasses and Ginny poured a liberal measure into each, before locating her own glass and topping it off.

'She didn't know they worked together,' Marietta said to Ginny

'Oh God, even I knew that,' scoffed Ginny.

'Asher only ever calls him Bram,' said Fran, but the defence sounded weak even to her own ears. She took a large swig of the eggnog instead of saying anything else.

'Are you going to talk to him? Or is it still too...raw?' she asked. Fran glanced at her, wary. Ginny never expressed anything like concern or delicacy unless it was to her own benefit which, whilst it was one of the reasons Fran liked her so much, made it very unnerving when she did. Ginny smirked. 'Because if you're not interested...'

'He's all yours,' said Fran shortly.

'Well in that case,' said Ginny, pressing the bottle into Marietta's free hand, 'I'll leave this with you and be off.' And she was, disappearing back into the crowd inside with a sly little grin over her shoulder.

'What a slag,' Marietta said, and it was almost fond. Fran hummed in agreement but didn't say anything, suddenly fascinated by a small chip in the nail varnish on one of her thumbs. Marietta rolled her eyes. 'Look,' she said bluntly, 'do you want the company or not?' Fran shrugged one shoulder eloquently. 'It's fucking cold and I'm not standing out here for the good of my health.'

Fran felt a little guilty at that and shook her head, taking a drag of her cigarette.

'I won't be long. Go make sure Genie isn't making a tit of herself over her cousin, you know what she's like around Henry after three drinks.'

She made an attempt at a mean little smirk but she really wasn't feeling it. Marietta raised her eyebrows in a manner that indicated to Frances that she saw right through her, but equally that she understood that Fran wanted to be by herself right now and that she wasn't going to press _yet_. It was either a very expressive eyebrow raise, or Fran had had too much of the homemade eggnog. One of the two.

'Honest. I'll finish this and I'll be back in.'

'If you say so,' replied Marietta. She pressed the bottle into Fran's hand ('you need this more than I do') and a moment later she was by herself on the balcony, elbows resting on the wrought-iron fencing as she glared out at the London skyline, Christmas lights blinking obnoxiously all over the place. She'd just started on a second cigarette when the glass doors slid open again. Fran glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see someone else trying to sneak a quick smoke break or perhaps Marietta hauling a drunk and handsy Genie away from her cousin. What she hadn't expected was--

'...Alfie.'

'Fran...'

There he was. She'd only caught a glimpse of him earlier before she'd made her getaway. It had been at a distance and she'd tried to convince herself for all of a minute that she'd been wrong, even though she'd known she hadn't been. This close there was no mistaking him and Fran couldn't help it as her gaze swept over his face, memorising everything detail as fast as she could before he turned tail and ran. Just for a moment. Then she collected herself, her expression as inscrutable as ever.

'One of your lot's been trying to catch me under the mistletoe so I -- I thought I'd get some air. I didn't realise you were out here. I'm sorry, I'll--'

'Stay.'

'Stay?'

'Well it's either me or the harpy with the parasitic shrub,' she said, tapping the ash from her cigarette into an empty glass. It was evident he wasn't quite sure which was the lesser of two evils. 'And it's plastic at that.' The corner of her mouth twitched. '...I'll let you decide if I'm talking about the mistletoe or Ginny.'

Alfie couldn't seem to help a little huff of laughter but she could see him hesitating as he glanced at the spot beside her. She silently held out the bottle of rum that Ginny had left behind.

'That a peace offering?'

'If you want it to be.'

He looked at the bottle for a moment more before reaching out and taking it. Another moment, another little pause, but then he was stepping into the space next to her, his back to the railings. She could feel the heat of his body all along her side and the sudden and all-consuming urge to curl into that warmth was like a punch to the gut. Instead, she inched further away and it was several minutes until either of them spoke again. Fran couldn't stand the silence. Couldn't believe that she actually missed all the sweet, silly nonsense that usually came out of his mouth.

'Look I know what I did was--'

'You fucked your boss, Fran,' said Alfie sharply, his fingers worrying at the bottle's label.

'...yeah,' she said quietly. She couldn't look at him.

'Didn't fancy bringing him with you tonight then?'

'No.' The silence was back. She didn't know what to say. The truth, perhaps -- yet at the same time, she couldn't bear it if he thought she was trying to make excuses. There _were_ no excuses.

In the end, she couldn't help herself. She needed him to know, even if it didn't make a difference.

'I quit. Haven't seen him since.'

'You quit?'

Fran thought he might have looked up at her at that but she kept her eyes on the skyline.

'Yep,' she said, popping the P and stubbing out the cigarette with a little more viciousness than the action really called for.

'I didn't know.'

'I didn't need you to know.' Her fingers itched for another cigarette just so that they'd have something to do, but she settled on drumming them on the packet in a staccato little beat before stuffing it into her pocket. 'It wasn't about you. Well it was but it - it wasn't about me trying to - it was for _me_. I didn't - I wasn't trying to get you back.'

 _I'd already burnt that bridge,_ she thought as she resisted the urge to put her head in her hands. Christ, she couldn't even string a sentence together. It was stupid. He made her stupid.

'What about your ten-year plan?' he asked, eyes still on the bottle. The sudden memory of that date they'd spent hiding from a thunderstorm in a tiny little bistro was vivid in her mind's eye -- dinner, two bottles of red wine and a game of twenty questions he cajoled her into until the rain eased up enough to head for their actual destination. Question twelve: _what do you want to do with your life?_ She'd had just enough of the wine to answer with a little more honesty than she usually would have. It had helped that she hadn't even thought he'd actually been paying any real attention to the answer, let alone enough to remember it nearly a year later.

They'd never actually made it to their original destination.

'Suppose I'll have to find a new one,' she said. She didn't look at him. _Couldn't_ look at him.

'You got anything on that list so far?'

'I'm not sure yet.'

They were silent again for a few minutes.

'It's nearly midnight,' he said, apropos of nothing.

'It...is?' she agreed.

'And if you've not brought _him_ as your plus one then...you've not got anyone for when the clock strikes twelve.'

She frowned slightly, thrown off-kilter. 'You know that's _New Year's_ Eve, right?'

There was that familiar huff of laughter again.

'Jesus Fran, can you just--'

Instead of finishing his sentence he leant in to kiss her. It was awkward at first, the angle all wrong and she was definitely at risk of getting a crick in her neck, but as she moved, turned to stand so she could wrap her arms around his neck, everything fell back into place. He was pressing her into the railings and Asher's rum ended up smashed on the floor but it didn't matter, she'd buy him a new one, she'd buy him a _dozen_ new ones just as long as Alfie didn't stop kissing her.

'Have dinner with me,' she said as they broke apart momentarily for breath, the words escaping before she had a chance think better of it. She blamed it on the fact that he was still so close that her lips were brushing his as she spoke. 

'What?' Alfie sounded distracted. 

'I'm asking you to have dinner with me,' she said, already on the defensive, throwing up walls as fast as she could in the face of what could only be inevitable rejection. He stared at her for a moment, blue eyes searching for...something. She had a feeling that she was being judged, and no doubt being found wanting -- but then he _smiled_. 

'I think you told me to have dinner with you, actually.'

There was no way that she could help a little smile at that, even as she felt sick with relief. She was sure her hands were trembling and she distracted herself by twisting them into the hair at the nape of his neck. His pleased little shiver was just a bonus. 'Would you like to have dinner with me, Alfie?' she asked, before adding: '...at mine. I'll cook.'

'You sure there's room to cook in that overpriced shoebox you call home?'

She took the teasing about her old flat with as much good grace as she could manage. 

'New place,' she said, with a studied air of nonchalance. When he didn't say anything she added, almost hesitantly: 'no...old memories.'

'...then I'd say it's definitely time to make some new ones.'

Instead of punching him in the arm for the godawful line, or rolling her eyes at him, she smiled and leaned in to kiss him again.


End file.
